Life Note
by Gentle Kiss
Summary: A harbinger of life who casts no shadow descends onto earth with only one goal; human evolution. When one reign ends, another begins, but who will be the one to wear the gilded crown? Yaoi, yuri future lemons. L/Light Light/OC L/OC Eventual and minor Misa/Light OC/ Misa Matt/Mello, ect.
1. Heaven, Fallen

**[AN] **welcome my fellow lovers of yaoi, and supporters of the Light x L pairing. have you ever wished for there to be an alternate ending to the wonderful anime/manga Death Note? fear not, I have come to your aid! there are probably many other ideas out there like mine, but I hope this fanfiction seems at least a bit different than the others you've read before. please bear with me...

anyfucks, I have no idea where this fic will be going. but there will be lemons. and they will be awesome. oh, and as for the Izanagi. Izanagi is the god of life and creation in the Shinto religion. but in my fanfiction, there is more than one Izanagi. let's just say that they're the opposites of Shinigami. welp, you'll figure it out as the fic progresses. this chapter is pretty much just a my own written version of the last episode with a few twists and some extra stuff. but it has really important details so don't skip over this chapter if you plan on keeping up with the story. I wouldn't read this chapter if you haven't finished Death Note yet.

thank you for even bothering to take a glimpse at this story. it'd also mean a great deal to me if you offer some criticism, be it constructive or not.

**[Disclaimer]** I do not own Death Note or its characters, other than the Izanagi and the concept of the 'Light Note' depicted in this fanfiction. and that tiny portion of that giant ass speech in the fic is from the Death Note manga.

* * *

**Life Note  
How to Use**

**I**

● The human whose name is written in this note shall be granted the ability to cheat death.

● This note will not take effect unless the writer has the person's face in their mind when writing his/her name. Therefore, people sharing the same name will not be affected.

● This note can also nullify the effects of the Death Note.

● If the cause of death written in the Death Note is not specified, the writer simply has to write down the person's name in the Life Note within 40 seconds of it being written down in the Death Note for the effect of the Death Note to be nullified.

● If the cause of death is specified, the writer must specify a probable explanation for the cause of death to be halted within 40 seconds of the name being written down in the Death Note.

● If the explanation is possible, the writer has an additional 6 minutes 40 seconds after writing the name to add further details before the effects of the Death Note are restored. If further details are not written, the Death Note may take effect depending on the details written down in the Death Note.

* * *

**Chapter 1: Heaven, Fallen**

All it takes is a little gasoline and the brisk flick of a match for the self-proclaimed God of the New World's picturesque Heaven to burst into flames.

"Light Yagami." Those unfamiliar words are uttered by an unfamiliar, childish voice. The words are final and resolute, said without a hint of hesitation or uncertainty, marking the tragic end to the best laid plans that had been intricately crafted by a mere human trying to obtain divinity. They reach his ears with ease, the intonation a derisive rise and fall, but the man's mind can't process it. The syllables don't sound right in his head, his typically fast-paced brain unable to decipher their meaning. He desperately begins searching through the files of his memories, but finds them in disarray. What is a 'Light Yagami'?

Or rather, who is Light Yagami?

The fire is slowly creeping up to the false God's gilded throne, yet it purges the unnecessary bits of information that are concealing the answer to his question and terrifying him all the same.

"You are Kira."

It feels like the sudden illumination of a light after just waking up; blinding and brilliant. He knows because he is God. He knows all, he knows the path to justice, the fine line between the honest and the rotten, the name behind those coal-black, young eyes staring back at him with blitheness, the identity of 'Kira." Light Yagami is soon to be no more. He had already begun being devoured by the vengeful flames of justice long ago. The fire that is slowly creeping up on him now sparked years before, probably the exact moment he had picked up the Death Note, when Light Yagami was just another insignificant human preparing for an average adult hood, a passing face, a hog lined up with the rest of them in the abattoir, waiting to be slaughtered.

They're wrong. They're all wrong, wrong, wrong. And he is right. Light Yagami is not Kira. Light Yagami is gone.

Light Yagami clings to the throne, waiting to be burned, a sacrifice for the New World and its God.

Kira makes himself known, his metamorphosis complete, and spreads his new wings to prepare himself for flight.

The panels of the ventilation fan are slowly circulating.

A sudden expulsion of malevolent laughter echoes off the empty walls of the warehouse. It continues, rising and falling like a tumultuous sea, unforgivable and relentless. The emptiness serves as an amplifier for him, making his voice known to all, filling their ears with shock and unparalleled fright. Other than its sound effects, this setting is far from ideal. It's so cliche. The final stage for too many stories take place in an abandoned warehouse much like this one. Yet again, this is not the final stage for Kira. Just his adversaries. He keeps that in mind, and it serves as a much needed boost of morale for him.

The fools.

"That's right," Kira murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper. His laughter has died exponentially, leaving in its wake the occasional chuckle and excited exhale of breath. He disregards the name Light Yagami and answers the coal-eyed child as though those four syllables never left his mouth, like the only accusation he made was "you are Kira."

"I am Kira," he confirms like it's an ultimatum. A deep silence settles over the dirty warehouse as the phrase sinks into all of their thick skulls.

The flames are licking at Light Yagami's bones, his ashes cloud Kira's vision. But his ideals, his well-thought-out goals and iron-clad rules remain as clear to him as the untouchable skies of Heaven.

The smoke created by the burning remains of Kira's sacrifice, however, prove to be his downfall. Light Yagami is a necessary pawn in this chess board of life and death. The smog reaches up towards the sky, obscuring Heaven's sun and casting shadows over Paradise.

Kira turns his back to their guns, daring them to shoot with a smile on his face. He is death, and does not fear it anymore.

"So, now what? Are you going to kill me right here?" He turns back around, his expression now serious and taking on characteristics of the familiar Light Yagami that the task force had grown to know so well. "Listen. I am Kira. And," he pauses, allowing this fact to tangle itself into their minds, casting aside any doubt that they had left, "the god of this new world! In this world I am the law, and I am the one maintaining the order. That is the truth. Now I am justice! The world's only hope. Are you going to kill me? Is that really the right thing to do? Capturing Kira that may have been the just thing to do in the past, but now, _it's evil_. The mentality of the world has changed. Are you sure you want to capture Kira just for your satisfaction? It's been six years since Kira appeared. War is a thing of the past, most of the worst criminals have died, and the world's crime rate has gone down by 70%. But this world is still rotten."

Kira continues his testimony like a defending attorney in a court room, a priest preaching the Bible to God's students, but his voice falls upon deaf ears. The words, no matter how reasonable and justifiable they are, fail to change their views of Kira and the terror he has brought upon the entire world. They stand there in silence, allowing him to speak, simply because they pity him and the monster he has become. It's like a soliloquy because no one is listening to him. A soliloquy sung by a siren with its tongue ripped out.

This is the end. They all know it to be true. Matsuda's eyes begin to water with tears that feel hotter than a stove on its highest setting but can't be higher in temperature than his own body, and there's a knot in his throat that he's struggling to swallow, trying to push it into the pit of his stomach and let the acid there eat it away like the madness that has devoured his sanity and everything he believed in. After all these years, it was Light.

L had known all along. And no one believed him. No one listened.

"You know it as well as I do." Light's speech is coming to a close. These will be his last words, and even a criminal deserves that much, so they let him finish.

"There are those in this world who are better of dead." Light Yagami, _Kira_, is one of them.

"There's nothing wrong with exterminating pests, so why is it wrong to kill people who are pests to this world?" Because killing pests isn't murder.

"Do you really want to put an end to Kira here?" That is what almost everyone in this room has been fighting for for six years, after all.

"Is that really for the good of this world?" It's for the preservation of 'humanity' and everything it stands for.

"What good will it do to arrest me now?" It'll put an end to this war.

"It's only going to make you happy, right?" This is not a happy ending.

"Don't you think you're being egotistical?" Claiming to be God is egotistical.

"If you claim that this is to avenge L's death, then that is an act of folly. What you see before you is Kira, but also the God of this new world."

Silence again. The last echoes of Light's speech fade, leaving only a profound silence until Near's voice cuts through it.

"No," he challenges, the snow white curls obscuring his eyes. "You're just a murderer, Light Yagami."

Kira wants to kill them. Kira wants to tear off that kid's mouth for even saying that name in front of him, in front of God, and make it so that he never says any accusation or questions the law of Kira ever again. But he stands there, his teeth grinding viciously behind placid lips, and waits for the opportune moment.

It does not come.

* * *

There are many doors being closed, and only one is thrown open. Precious moments spent casting judgement on the wicked, on calculating and planning, and entertaining his articulate thoughts and bright dreams have been spent in vain, and his own blood, sweat and tears in which he wrote the names of lowlife criminals in that little black book have been spilled all for nothing.

Mikami's pathetic suicide gave Kira a small sliver of opportunity to make an escape. Light Yagami knows it'll be in vain, that death will soon catch up with him, deep down he knows this, but it is Kira who wills his legs to move, to open that last door and throw himself into the light of the dying day, to run and run and run as far away as he can from that wretched spot. Kira hears them calling that unfamiliar name, hears the flutter of wings as the birds take flight, disturbed from his sudden expulsion, and envies them for being able to escape so easily. He spends a mere second on this thought before his mind switches over to more pressing matters.

Like his death, for instance.

He navigates his way through the familiar streets, sees the face of an innocent, aspiring Light Yagami, free from the grip of the Death Note and the rules and the repercussions that come with it. Free from the duty he has -no, _had_- and sacrifices he has made to ensure that the New World will be a bright and pure one for those that are worthy of it. Light Yagami, just another model student with a stable family, good looks and a promising future. Kira envies Light Yagami, too.

Light Yagami. Light Yagami, Light Yagami, Light Yagami.

Kira.

Light Yagami is Kira.

Light Yagami exists. It is Kira who does not anymore. Those flames that Kira- that Light Yagami- created had ended up consuming Kira, not Light Yagami. Kira is no more. All that is left is Light Yagami, broken like a century-old, unpreserved, porcelain doll. He can feel himself begin to shatter, watches the blood leak from his body with a steady rhythm when it hits the pavement, leaving traces of his existence where he goes. But these traces, too, will wash away along with the rest of him. To the rest of the world, to the history books and the news and the masses of the good and the rotten people, Kira will be a name without a face, and Light Yagami will be forgotten.

He wonders what the generations after will draw in their minds or on pieces of paper when they think of the name 'Kira.' Will they depict him as a hideous monster, a creature with pointed teeth and red eyes, or will they match it with the face of a godlike being seen only on the timeless sculptures found in ancient Greece?

Maybe some of them will envision an average, teenage boy like Light Yagami.

There's a door up ahead, and it is already open, and although all hope is gone and he has nothing left, the fallen God runs toward it. Surely this time it must be the last door. Light desperately clutches at his chest, over his heart, anticipating the dull pain and slight tug that will soon come. Cardiac arrest. How disgustingly poetic. He'll die the same way he inflicted death upon others, never thinking for a moment that the same thing would happen to him.

_"..__when it's your time to die, it will fall on me to write your name in my Death Note."_ He forgot all about that.

He passes through the open door frame, finds himself in another warehouse with a set of stairs, and begins the ascent.

* * *

**Life Note  
****How to Use**

**II**

● The notebook shall become the property of the human world, once it touches the ground of (arrives in) the human world.

● The owner of the note can recognize the image and voice of the original owner, i.e. a God of Life/izanagi.

● The human who is revived with the notebook is neither living nor dead.

* * *

Humans always have been so unrefined. Like diamonds still buried within rock. So much beauty and potential. And it's up to a select few to mine and shape them...

"Ryuk."

How dare this shinigami try to steal one of her precious diamonds? One more kanji and the gem would be beyond her reach.

The shinigami knows that voice, it's clarity akin to spring water. He stops the path of his pen, the drops of ink falling from its tip and blotting the page like blood, and looks up towards the dying sun. A figure, suspended in air and casting no shadow below, hovers not too far from where Ryuk is perched, his hand ready to cast what some would call 'divine judgement' on a corrupted king.

He just calls it inevitability.

"Oh. Hey, Mizuki," the god of death acknowledges her, his wide eyes unphased by the light that most humans would be blinded by from directly looking at it for too long. The figure before him seems to be not of this world, an ethereal image featured on the stained glass windows of a church, and the warm hues of the sunset shine through her just like one, as though she's an apparition of mankind's design.

Mizuki wastes not a single moment on formalities, cutting through them with a voice like frozen water. She has no time to lose, not with one of her precious diamonds on the verge of destruction.

"The game isn't over yet. Not until I say it is." She says it like a hymn and with thought, with articulate pronunciation and a slight edginess to it. It's not a demand, simply a matter of fact, one she plans on bestowing upon the ingrates of the shinigami realm and her own society.

Predictably, Ryuk chuckles at her display of bigotry, his jagged, pointed teeth bared in a smile that would make even the most credulous of adults piss their pants and have nightmares for weeks after. Mizuki, however, does not show even the slightest bit of indignation. Her expression is as still as undisturbed water. But, like water, all it takes is a small pebble disrupting her tranquil state for there to be a large ripple effect.

This statement comes as a sort of relief to Ryuk. Truth be told, there was a small bit of hesitance when he picked up that pen, soaked in the blood of the millions he killed before, and began to inscribe the name of what would have been an average teenager had he not picked up the Death Note, an entertaining human with as much worth to him as a grain of sand, in his black book.

The shinigami, however, doesn't harbor any kindred feelings for the one he has been possessing on and off for the past six years. No, their relationship had been strictly business, something even Light understood. The only thing holding this merciless god back is his unwillingness to let go of the past. It had been fun. Light had fulfilled his use and eased Ryuk's boredom for a little while. He dreads the return to the desolate, bleak land of the shinigami, where harbingers of death reside and apples taste like dirt, and all anyone ever does is sit on their asses and scribble down the names of insignificant humans every so often to keep themselves running. What's the point of even continuing with your dull, obsolete life when nothing exciting ever happens in it? Down here on Earth, everything changes, so much so that if you even blink a single time, you'll miss the spectacular evolution of a thousand different things. That's why Ryuk doesn't blink.

He supposes he doesn't have to go back, can just drop the Death Note in some random spot, but he doubts that a person as interesting as Light would come along and pick it up then try to do something productive with it, like try to change the world or even make a new one, someone who would mold it with their bare hands to whatever shape they see fit. No. Ryuk's never seen or even heard of anyone who's gone as far as Light has, who has worked as hard and destroyed as many as him. The pages that Light has filled are far more riddled with blood that all of the others' combined. Most would have written down just a few names, probably those of their high school tormentors, teachers that give them too much homework, or parsimonious bosses who've cut down on their wages, without any real murderous intent or even the slightest clue that in their hands they hold the deadliest weapon ever to have existed, and then toss it in the trash with horror and dismay when everyone around them started dropping like flies. Others would use it for monetary gain, similar to what the Yotsuba company had done a few years back. But no one else except for Light could have done this, not something of this magnitude for a twisted sense of righteousness, only experiencing sleep deprivation due to strict, meticulous writing, strategizing, maneuvering, and get away with it for so long.

Imagine what he'd be capable of doing if he had the Life Note in his hands as well. Imagine what _it _could do to his _mind._

It's not that difficult for Ryuk to give into her demands, to make the necessary actions in order to close his wretched Death Note, leaving Light's name unfinished, the analogies and metaphors piling around him like dead bodies. Things that are left unwritten, pages that have turned, books being closed.

"Sure. You're doing me a big favor, saving him." At least he'll still have someone to buy him apples.

"You were the one who was going to kill him in the first place," Mizuki replied calmly, although there was a slight, almost inconspicuous twitch of her upper lip.

Irrelevance. "Don't you have someone to save?" the shinigami responds, not at all bothered by Mizuki's accusations. She seems to remember the severity of the situation and what she originally set out to do, and as quickly as it came, that small hint of annoyance vanishes with the rest of her emotions, and slowly the rest of her body.

Composed once again, she makes a single, solemn nod towards him, and without another word, her physical form seems to fade into the sky similar to how water evaporates beneath the glare of the sun.

She will not let her diamond lose its luster.

* * *

There isn't much light left, and hope is fading fast. Still, in these last few moments, he's content, has come to grips with the inevitable.

_'I guess even a god has to die sometime.'_

There will be no salvation. When he dies, his kingdom will fall into the sea like Atlantis. Forgotten, and only myths will suggest that it ever existed before.

He takes the first step up the staircase, then another, for some surreal reason trying to reach the top, still knowing that he has no where left to go. If death doesn't find him, the investigation team will.

The fallen king has five bullets in him, however, which hinder him greatly and cause him to collapse from pain and exhaustion, his teeth grinding in agony, his eyebrows furrowing. He hits the stairs unceremoniously, the metal steps digging into his side, and forces himself to roll over.

He only made it halfway. Light couldn't do it. Six years and he couldn't irreversibly change the world. Now, he's trapped between two realms, the fingers of death brushing his skin, and it's tantalizing, he wants to grab that hand and let it lead him to the other side. But there will be no other side for Light. Just the blank slate of non-existence, of a deep, eternal nothingness. Trapped between two worlds, Heaven and Hell. Unable to attain the splendors of Paradise nor even be casted down into the pits of the fiery sea.

He calms down. Lets it take him. Lets Death claim its victory. He is at peace, or at least as peaceful as one can be on the verge of destruction.

Some people just don't let the dead rest.

The Izanagi reaches him in only a few seconds, materializing from the spot where she had spoken to Ryuk just moments before. She appears like a mirage in the warehouse, and Light forces himself to keep his eyes open so that he can stare at her. He thinks her as some sort of illusion, for the last shimmers of light shine through her as though she's not really there.

She takes a step forward, and he feels no fear. He's gone anyways, gone, gone gone. She can't do anything to him that the Death Note will or has already done.

He's right. She is capable of the exact opposite.

She crosses the floor, her steps slow and graceful, and when she reaches the stairs, she walks up four steps in order to stand by his side, the place that she will be until their journey together comes to an end.

As she kneels beside him, she reaches a pale hand out to touch his face, and he expects it to pass right through him like a ghost. It doesn't, and he feels the biting chill of her fingers when they touch his skin. Her gesture is gentle yet possessive.

"You can't die just yet."

If Light were even capable of speech, he wouldn't have known what to say. He's usually so full of answers and knowledge, but right now everything is in a mess, including himself.

The Izanagi lets her hand fall so that she may reach into her snow white yukata. Light believes for a short moment that she's carrying a weapon on her, but what she pulls from the cloth that she is wearing is no weapon, not even a Death Note. It restores life, not destroy it.

It is a simple white notebook, similar in size and appearance to the Death Note other than its contrasting color. She opens it to an empty page, her eyes never leaving his face, even when she raises her hand once again to cover his eyes with her cold palm.

Suddenly, a brilliant explosion of light engulfs the warehouse, although it does not reach past the shattered windows or open doors or cracked walls. And when the light fades, the sun completes its descent past the bloody horizon, and night has fallen.

When she lowers her hand again, Light can distinctly make out the outline of wings blacker than night itself on her back. They're quite large, and look like those on a raven or crow, or even more appropriately like the ones on a celestial god. Not a single time do her azure eyes stray from his face, smoldering and intense, even as she reaches back to pluck a single feather from her wings among the wide array of them. The quill seems to be steadily dripping blood, like it has an endless supply inside of it.

Light watches in awe and slight apprehension, wondering if the Death Note can also come in different colors. Is she writing his name down? And if she is, why isn't Ryuk being the one to end his life like he promised he would?

He hears the faint scratching of her quill on the paper, and closes his eyes as he braces himself for death. It's not so bad. Kind of peaceful, despite this heavy sense of foreboding that's baring down upon him.

The blackness behind Light's closed lids becomes blacker, heavier, like the weight of the night, or perhaps the woman's wings. He himself, however, feels weightless, like he has a soul that has been ripped from his physical body and set free into the sky. The higher he goes, the farther away he seems to be from everything else. Farther from the Death Note, farther from the investigation team, from the rotten people that dwell in their filthy holes and the good that walk among them. And when he soars too high, when he reaches his limit, when he thinks one more meter and he'll plummet back down, it's like there's a shackle on his ankle keeping him from drifting away.

He's dead, but not quite. He's alive, but not quite.

Mizuki, despite her frail appearance, easily lifts the boy's body into her arms and embraces the night with her blood tipped wings.

* * *

**November 5th, 2004**

It's astounding what the simple push of a button can do.

So much data deleted, so much evidence expunged, all that information now only existing in the mind of a single man with poor posture and dark lines beneath his wide eyes.

L shall be deleted too, like a stray letter in a typed up sentence that's not supposed to be there. Backspaced. Deleted. Dead.

The power went out, and everyone was flung into chaos, leaving only two people in the room level-headed. Kira and L.

It was dark. L couldn't see. He couldn't see Kira or the shinigami, and could feel his end drawing nearer. Catastrophe had found him, sniffed him out like a hound. He wondered what it would do to Kira once it caught up to him. He had, after all, left behind him a river of blood to track him with.

"The Shiniga-" Delete. Information expunged. His sentence went unfinished. Everything went unfinished.

The spoon between his fingers slipped and clattered dramatically on the tiles below. He didn't have the strength to sit up anymore, and a forceful tug on his heart pulled him to the floor, chair and all. Everything went in slow motion. He had fallen, and it wasn't graceful like a flower breaking away from its branch.

The force held him there, pinned him down, whispered sweet nothings in his ear and promised everything would be over soon. This wasn't the end he foresaw. No, not here, not now, not with the entire task force and Kira staring at him. Not without his name being written down in Kira's Death Note.

He heard the bells ringing. Heavy, slow, deep and pounding like the last thumps of his heart, but only less erratic.

Kira didn't kill him, but he willed it to happen.

Neither of them had won, but Kira would still claim this moment as his own victory.

Right when he hit the floor, Light was beside him, feigning horror, holding him in his tainted arms as would be expected of a close friend, of someone who wasn't Kira, who was capable of feeling empathy, who wasn't witnessing the fall of his greatest adversary.

Then, that buried, malevolent smile crept up on Light Yagami's innocent face. L would have preferred if Kira had shown his true colors with a grimace upon realizing that he had lost the war instead of a winning smirk like that.

He could feel himself slipping, could feel the violent waves of red crash over his head, drowning him. Wouldn't it be so much easier to let the sea claim him? He didn't want to die.

Twenty four second had passed since Rem had written L's name down in her notebook. Her remains, a measly pile of dust and sand, now laid in one of the corridors of the headquarters. She had given her life, Watari and L's lives, to sustain Misa's and her happiness. What a noble way to die. Who knew shinigami were capable of feeling empathy? Kira had proven to be an even more wicked demon than gods of death like her. He had surpassed them all.

Right when L Lawliet was about to let go, let himself go down, down, down, never to resurface, he caught a glimpse of something behind Light's shoulder, unknown to all except for the dying detective. It was a beautiful woman, hair darker than a black hole, eyes bluer than the morning sky. She was like an angel, come to carry his soul far away, to Heaven above or Hell below. L wondered which place he'd be best suited for. His alignment did not fall on either end of the spectrum in his opinion. Neutral. Perhaps she'd send him to purgatory.

But he knew that she was not an angel brought down to ferry him to the other side. Even on the verge of death, his mind was not that far gone. When everything around him crumbled and burned, he still retained his sanity, kept a firm hold on his mind. Unlike Kira. Similar to Light.

A raised finger pressed against the woman's lips, motioning for L to be quiet. Why was it that L could see her and no one else could?

In the chaos of what was unfolding, she had slipped L a small piece of her notebook. It remained in his clenched hand, and for some reason he didn't drop it despite being so weak. When he tried to see if he could form a fist with his other hand, he found that he could not, nor could he release the tiny piece of paper.

He thought he heard her say, in a voice like a wind chime, "Close your eyes."

L obeyed, for his lids were very heavy, and he didn't know if it was because he was nearing his end or because of depriving his body of sleep so much. He didn't care. For now, he knew deep down that he was safe.

This was not the end. L Lawliet remained a piece on the deadly chess board, a piece played by Mizuki Shimizu, a true god of life.

* * *

**Life Note  
How to Use**

**III**

● Life Notes come only in one color; white.

● The human who touches the Life Note can recognize the image and voice of its original owner, an Izanagi, even if the human is not the owner of the note.


	2. Heaven, Vestigial

**[AN] **okay, so no yaoi or yuri in this chapter yet. I still have to put down the plot and whatnot and get the characters all situated. sorry for the disappointment... and seriously, if one of my rules make absolutely no sense to you, tell me and I'll try to fix/ explain it. c;

* * *

**Life Note  
How to Use**

**IV**

● The person in possession of the Life Note is possessed by a god of life, its original owner, until they die.

● If a human uses the note, a god of life usually appears in front of him/her within 39 days after he/she uses the note.

● Gods of Life, the original owners of the Life Note, do not do, in principle, anything which will help or prevent the effects of the note.

● A God of Life has no obligation to completely explain how to use the note or rules which will apply to the human who owns it unless asked.

* * *

**Chapter 2: Heaven, Vestigial**

**Six Years Ago**

_It was like something out of a shitty, generic horror movie. A private funeral was being held for a man who was in all medical sense of the term 'dead,' yet somehow not quite. But Mizuki liked it that way. She liked the cliches, the scripted lines, the overused plots. That way, she already knew what the best course of action was, and she'd never lose because she'd seen this a thousand times in a thousand different movies, and she knew how they all ended._

'Here lays L Lawliet, the greatest detective to have ever lived.'_ His unmarked cross extruding from the fertile ground of the cemetary casted its dim, slowly decaying shadow. The day was decaying as well, and the Izanagi saw the symbolism in the red sky above from her place beside one of the few trees that dotted the melancholic cemetary. She remained invisible to the only other attendants of L's funeral, those who witnessed his fall. The rest of the public was unaware that his blood had ceased its once ever constant flow in his body, that he was supposedly dead. When it came down to it, they knew the truth better than the task force here._

_Mizuki tampered with his fate. His soul was hers now, to do with as she pleased. However, her disposition was slightly different from that of those depicted in her beloved cliche stories. Rather than enjoying her puppets struggle, she'd much rather them remain stoic, to give in to the sin of apathy as she pulled their strings and manipulated them to her desire. It was so much easier that way. Perhaps, when her goals had been met, she would loosen the leash and see how her pets reacted, but for now she couldn't afford to slip up. She couldn't afford to seek entertainment from her humans, because if that day came, her focus would be impeded and she would surely lose._

_Silhouettes began to fade into the distance, and before they were out of view of the grave, one of them turned towards where the god of life stood not too far from L's resting place. From this distance, Mizuki could see his eyes boring right into hers, as though he could possibly see her. She grew uncomfortable beneath his stare, and was freed only when a rich voice, the boy's father, called his name. "Light?"_

_"Yeah, dad," he answered, eyes fixated on her spot for but a single moment more before he turned and followed suit._

_The god exhaled, just realizing that she had been holding her breath the entire time. Disgusted by her display of unease, she narrowed her eyes, glaring at his back until he disappeared, her voice acidic as she muttered two macabre words; "You're next."_

_Despite being a god of some sorts, Mizuki was not omnipotent, so she had to get her fingers a little dirty in order to free her human from his temporary prison. Her actions cloaked by the darkness of the night, she strode purposefully towards L's grave, shovel in hand, and began digging._

* * *

**Present Day**

"Light." A quite, monotone voice tickles his ears, and he grinds his teeth in disgust. Light hates her voice, and always has. The voice lacks any actual emotion, other than occasionally being condescending, but what he hates the most about it is how pleasing it sounds, because Mizuki is anything but pleasing. She's like a siren, and he'd be damned if he let her sing him into a bed of sharp rocks. "We're out of scotch."

He doesn't bother disguising a heavy sigh, far too busy with his work to go out and buy her a bottle. "So? You've got wings, go fly out and get some." The artifical lighting of the computer monitor propped up on Light's lap is the only source that illuminates the room other than those that flicker in the city outside their hotel. The Izanagi leans against the wall beside the large window, eyes peering down on those below her as though casting judgement upon them all.

"You know I can't do that," she replies, unoffended by his rude tone. Anyone else who spoke to her in that manner would feel her 'divine wrath,' but Mizuki views the young man who she had resurrected a few months ago as being a step above the rest of his kind. A demigod, if you will.

Light brushes his fingers across the Latin alphabetic keys, and leans his head back against the headboard of the bed. He's hit a dead end in his ceaseless work, and her prattling is not helping his frustration. Usually she's like a shadow, quiet and easy to ignore, which he appreciates, yet whenever he gets agitated, it's as though she purposely opens her mouth just to piss him off. Still, Light knows better than that. She's most likely just testing his ability to function whilst under strenuous pressure, and he decides to prove to her that he can handle it. "You drink yet you don't feel the effects of it," he says, composed once again, and closes his eyes to give them a break from the irritating light of the screen. "Do you drink to feel human, Mizuki-san?"

Sharp nails rake down the thick glass of the window, the cacophony sending shivers down Light's spine. He smiles to himself, pleased that he was able to get under her pasty skin. Her azure eyes rest on him now, aflame with anger, yet she maintains her clear, decisive tone. "I am a god. What reason would I have to wish to dwell on your level when I enjoy the splendors of being far above it?" It seems that the god herself can't cope with pressure as much as Light can.

This is where the Izanagi is so very, irrevocably wrong. "Have you forgotten?" the young man chuckles, reaching behind him, his hand ducking behind the pillow as though he were searching for a hidden gun. Instead, what he holds in his hand is the paper behind the mighty pen, and the shield that counters it. The Death Note and the Life Note. "I have more power than you. I can give life, I can take life." He's practically mocking her and her restrictive ability that only allows her to save the humans she so often claims to be above. "A true God can create and destroy. You can't do both. But I can, so that means I am your superior."

Tinkling, effervescent laughter resonates throughout the five star hotel room. Light raises a brow at this uncharacteristic behavior, and for a fleeting moment, the animosity he feels towards her dims, but only slightly. In those few seconds, as her usually placid lips upturn to display a warm smile, she shows a rare side of her that not many have seen, and he kind of wants to smile back, the way a parent does to console an obnoxious child in the middle of a temper tantrum. She's disgusting in the way some things are just too sweet, in the way some things are too bright and hurt the eyes.

"Silly Light-kun," she muses, her voice different from what he's used to. It's still beautiful and clear, but reflects actual emotion. She unlocks the large window and slides it open, then unfurls her onyx black wings, a few crimson tipped feathers falling to the floor like snow from the clouds, or ash from a burned kingdom. There's nothing beautiful about any of it, yet Light finds himself transfixed. "Come back to me when the deaths you cause and the lives you save extend your own. Then, and only then, can you compare yourself to a god."

None of this is knew to Light. When Mizuki appeared to him after he awakened from his three week gestation period into the being he is today, she had relayed to him information regarding Life Notes and the Izanagi that possess them. He discovered that some of the rules are very similar to those that apply to the Death Note and their Shinigami, though most of them are polar opposites, the other side of the same coin.

Long after she has disappeared into the night, he finally answers her. Light shuts the laptop, readying himself for much needed sleep. It reminds him of an adversary he once had over half a decade ago, when they were chained together, literally and metaphorically. This adversary never slept, staying up all night on his laptop trying to find incriminating evidence of the third Kira's identity, and evidence against Light himself.

"Right," he mutters to himself, the echoes of Mizuki's laughter finally ending their taunting vibrations on the inner walls of his psyche. "Longevity isn't what defines a god. Power is."

* * *

**Life Note  
****How to Use****  
**

**V**

● A god of life can extend their own life by putting human names on the note, but humans cannot. The life span already used up by the human whose name is written down will be given to the Izanagi.

● A person can shorten his/her own life by using the note.

● The human who becomes the owner of the Life Note can, in exchange of half of his/her remaining life, get the eyeballs of the god of life which will enable him/her to see a human's name, remaining lifetime, and how they will die when looking through them. This includes if the human will die from the Death Note.

● A god of life cannot be killed even if stabbed in his heart with a knife or shot in the head with a gun. However, there are ways to kill a god of life, which are not generally known to the Izanagi.

* * *

She's miles away. Around 6,000 miles away from where she'd been moments ago, actually. It takes half a day, give or take, to get from Tokyo to London via commercial airlines, but for an Izanagi, especially one as renowed for their speed as Mizuki, it takes just under ten minutes. Being able to cover that much air in such short time would come in handy for those leading a double life like her. Husbands could go out, shag all the women they want, then be back home for dinner time to greet their wives with a kiss on the cheek and a pat on the head for the kids like everything's a cheap version of a 1950's sitcom, but more dystopic. He's so damn clueless. Light's so damn blissfully clueless, and it's kind of cute in a pathetic way. It gives Mizuki a vague sense of maternal instinct, like she has to protect her precious diamond from the dirt and the grime and the shit that he's trying so hard to clean up.

There's only so much a few notebooks and some free time can do, though.

She doesn't want to knock on the glass like she does every night. Her wings are retracted, and she sits, drenched in silence and dread, on the sill like her legs aren't dangling off the edge, or the wind isn't biting her flesh and making her feel more human than she really is.

She's stifling an exasperated sigh as she raises her left arm, back against the window, and raps the thick glass haphazardly and briefly. A part of her doesn't want the window to open in answer, but it's tantalizing, and she feels drawn to the patron on the other side of the transparent barrier, despite how he makes _her_ feel transparent, like he can see right through her with his coal black eyes, though not quite literally like the rest of the humans he walks amongst. She prefers going unnoticed, not hiding in the shadows but rather _being _those shadows, but this man's perceptive and he looks for the object that casts them, and he knows that it's just a meager pile of her insecurities.

The curtains are drawn, and Mizuki's now center stage.

She turns her head and watches the window slide up out of the very corner of her eyes, his form still hidden from view. He smells like the ground after a light rain, like the clouds if you've ever had the chance of being that high up, and there's a hint of strawberries and cream on his cool breath. He must have had a slice of cake.

It's 17:00 and it's downcast, a typical London night. Mizuki knows that's the way he likes it, and she's not particular about weather, so it doesn't bother her like it would most. His voice breaks the stark silence, and she listens to it carefully, because everything he says is like a fucking prayer, and she's the parishioner.

"Why is it that whenever you come to visit me, you always sit there waiting for me to say something?"

Mizuki wants to punch him in the face for that rhetorical question, so she counters with passive aggressive sarcasm. "I like the fresh air." Her tone doesn't raise in intonation, so it doesn't sound exactly the same way that she's trying to make it come off as, but he picks up on it somehow anyways. He's like that.

"Perhaps I should just leave you to your own devices one day instead of giving you what you want." He leans against the wall. "Thats how parents discipline their children, and I hear it's rather effective."

"Fine," is her automatic response, and she eventually turns around, climbs through the window, and lands gracefully on the carpeted floor. He doesn't pay too much attention to the movements.

Before her is L. And to her, L is a man with tired, calculating, large eyes, a cynical thing who probably knows more than he should. L isn't a letter in the romaji alphabet. L is the pill Mizuki takes to go numb and kill her brain cells because sometimes she just wants to forget about a few things like everyone else.

L Lawliet. Mizuki blessed and cursed him. The Life Note comes with its consequences, but then again, what doesn't? Mizuki will have a plethora of them to file and sort when the sun comes up on their side of the globe, but this is now, and she's going to sin as much as she wants to before her demons whisk her away to punish her.

The detective has eyes that see everything. Relentless, cynical eyes. Mizuki loves it. Loves the way L makes her feel human, wouldn't ever admit it, and he knows despite not saying anything. Yeah. He's like that.

He doesn't touch her, but there's something crawling under her skin, and although it 's scaring her, she doesn't want it to stop. It starts in those eyes of his. Doesn't it always start in their eyes? Mizuki forgets to breathe, too preoccupied by the anticipation. Her lungs aren't begging for air, and when she realizes this, she snaps out of her hypnosis. Humans require oxygen. Mizuki does not.

L breaks the eye contact, turning his back to her. She wants to say something to make him stop and turn around, but she seems to almost forget the Japanese language, because she's a woman of few words in a foreign land that speaks in different tongues than what she's used to. Besides. L's usually the one who gives life to their one sided conversations, telling tales of battles won and battles lost with unparalleled eloquence. Of course, Mizuki always has the option of grabbing onto his skinny arm or something to get his attention, though it would be incredibly uncomfortable for the both of them. In the six years years of their association, neither party has ever deliberately tried to touch the other. In fact, the last time Mizuki can remember the clashing of their body temperatures, cold against hot, was six years ago when she had lifted him from his grave and flew him to an abandonded apartment in Shanghai. The experience was unsettling due to the vast difference, so she's reluctant to do it again unless absolutely necessary. She imagines that L feels the same way.

Without any other plausible idea, Mizuki follows in his footsteps, eyes transfixed on the floor as though he's tracking mud on it, stopping when he reaches the king sized bed, grabs his expensive laptop from the nightstand, and crawls onto the mattress. The sheets are perfectly aligned without a single wrinkle, making her wonder if L or one of the maids made them. The detective lays on his stomach, head at the end of the bed with the screen inches from his face. He seems even more tired than usual, those dark, permanent lines etched beneath his eyes even deeper than before.

"Six years and you still haven't tried to capture Light," Mizuki finally states, lips barely moving. L doesn't look up, not even when she lowers herself to sit beside him. She straightens out the folds that her movements created on the crisp, white sheets with steady hands, fluidly, the way she does everything. Like a doll, her blank expression does not change, and she's wearing a mask, hiding behind it.

L decides to answer as he waits for the laptop to reboot, though it takes only a few seconds to do so. "Correct. This is mostly because of your interference. My actions are highly restricted, anyways. The government believes me dead." They have the same voice. Monotonous. Very matter-of-fact.

"So does Light." They dwell in the heavy quiet, and Mizuki's voice somehow doesn't break it, though it does cause its ripples. "Why don't you use that to your advantage?"

If this were a love story, the correct response would be, 'because I don't want to ruin your grand plans by eliminating such a vital pawn on your chessboard.' But this isn't a love story, it's not even a game. This is war, and Mizuki's taking it seriously so that she doesn't get killed. Instead, L says, "It isn't my job anymore," while looking through a list of criminals on the task force database, his words contradicting his very actions.

It's like he's not even lying because of how ridiculously unconvincing that was. "Don't delay your answer," she demands, though it more like a suggestion. "Say it."

L wants her to leave.

"Light Yagami," he murmurs, large eyes unblinking. Anyone else wouldn't have noticed the bitterness in his voice as he spoke the name. "He doesn't know I'm still breathing. Neither you nor Ryuk, his own Izanagi and Shinigami, have told him." His words are stitched together seamlessly, for there is no hesitation. He's completely still, though his mind is racing, but it's easy for him to think this quickly, so he's calm about it. "And I want him to know that I still exist. I could use it to my advantage, yes, but I have an unfair upper hand in all of this. It wouldn't be a victory."

There's an impenetrable barrier around L, and Mizuki's trying to pierce it with her eyes. He notices, but pretends not to. She stands up which he also pretends not to notice. She walks away, back to the window, and he tries not to watch.

Mizuki closes the window and leans her right shoulder against the wall where L had been earlier. "You forgot to close it this time," she mumbles, and her voice is so low that he can barely hear it. L never forgets anything. Ever.

"I like the fresh air." L's slipping, and when he falls he wants to do it backwards so that he sees the sky before he hits the ground.

"Tell me the truth." When the rain begins fiercely battering the glass, it doesn't surprise her. It obscures her vision of the outside world, blurring the lights and turning them into vibrant water colored paint. She wants to see the look on his face, wants to watch him as the words drip from his lips like rain drops, and she sees the answer coming, because he's not as smudged as the city lights are.

"We're enemies, Mizuki-san, so telling you why would be illogical." That's right. L isn't someone who cares about titles, and L doesn't ever play fair. "You're free to guess, but don't expect me to tell you if you're right."

She kind of wants to smile at that, but she's forgotten how to.

"Incorrect," she responds, sounding like a computerized machine. "I am your Izanagi. You are my human."

"I believe the term you're looking for is 'friend.'"

"Is that what you consider me, L?" She hears that word thrown around all the time by humans. "Your friend?" She lets the word roll off her tongue, weighs it in her mind, and decides she doesn't like it, but will use it anyways because humans do.

"No," he says after a few moments, but without any consideration on his part. Mizuki doesn't seem too dejected.

The rain doesn't halt its onslaught, and the Izanagi returns to gazing out the window, trying not to focus on the lights. It stays quiet like that for a while, and there's a part of Mizuki that's starting to feel strange. It's almost like cowardice, and for some reason she wants to escape. L would like that. He would like it if Mizuki left. This must be what some call an 'awkward silence,' and Mizuki doesn't realize it, but it's making her feel uncomfortable, something she's never felt before. It's a step forward, and she's terrified of going further into the fog, the unknown, so she takes two steps back.

"Light Yagami," L murmurs in that same bitter tone as before. There's no period after the name, a sentence unfinished, prompting her to add on to it, though it becomes a run-on.

"He writes your name down in his note every single night, you know." She lets the words flutter through the air, creep through the tiny crevices of the walls, hears them hiss as they slither into L's ears, then adds, "Into the Death Note. He has been doing it ever since he died in January."

There are a few chilling seconds of a silent exchange between the two until L says "I know." He shuts his laptop. He hadn't really been too invested in tonight's work, anyways, signified by the position he was in, laying down on the bed rather than sitting up, slouched, hands on bent knees. She knew that already, and L had a feeling that she'd pick up on it.

"Do you feel it?" she whispers, her gaze never shifting because there's nothing in his eyes for her to read. "The tug on your heart when he does it?"

There's no humor in his words, nor is there any pain, because L doesn't find many things funny and he's not going into cardiac arrest as they speak. "Yeah. And it's troublesome, so please tell him to stop."

Forty seconds pass. Both of them count each second in their heads, _tick tock, _wondering if those forty seconds will be it. After the time passes, Mizuki asks casually, "Can I watch?"

L looks at her out of the corner of his eye, arching his brow. "You're asking me that?" The Izanagi isn't one to take orders. She comes and goes as she pleases, takes what she wants, creates and destroys what she wants without hesitation. L might be her next target.

"I asked to be polite," she replies simply.

"Don't waste your time on the formalities," L says, waving his hand like he's swatting at a fly. That's all Mizuki's words and excuses are to him, all Mizuki herself is to him; a fly, an annoying pest that keeps buzzing in his ear. She makes it far too easy to dislike her. "I can't stop you, though I'd rather you not be here."

Mizuki doesn't respond, a bit smug from his answer. It's always much better when they submit. Cleaner, even. There's almost no death cleaner than cardiac arrest. It leaves no mess behind, no blood and guts. Everyone likes it better that way because it's so much easier.

L's heart does a little stutter, and for a moment, Mizuki ignorantly believes it to just be his nerves acting up until that little stutter is only followed by a dull echo in her ears. Curious, she steals a glance at him, furrowing her brows very slightly, hands held behind her back. As her gaze trails up his form to his face, his wide eyes snap shut and his body trembles, and his heart rate becomes erratic.

L's so vulnerable, so weak right now. His walls are finally down, but it's like she's put a blindfold on herself, afraid to see what's been behind them all this time. Perhaps the correct reaction would be for Mizuki to rush forward and take the very silent, very still L into her arms, but what good would that do? She just chooses to stand there, waiting, her eyes dull with disappointment. L's not really dying. If she wrote his name into the Life Note, it wouldn't help him in the slightest. It wouldn't stop the pain. The only thing she can do is prevent it from happening again. Batten down the hatches, lock the doors, shut the windows until the storm rides out and pray that it's the last one. She doesn't know if she'll be able to handle this disappointment another time. Mizuki can't save something when there's nothing to be saved. L is empty. He has nothing to offer her anymore, not in the pathetic state that he has been forced into by yours truly.

She's so powerless.

The man's face is slightly contorted from the pain, and he's clutching his left arm, rolled up into a ball on his right side. His eyes are squeezed tight and his breath is labored. To Mizuki, each breath is almost visible. It's like she can see through his chest, through the flesh and muscle and tissue, right down to his thumping heart. She'd really like to rip it out of his chest and then put it back in right about now. Stitch the wounds with steady fingers. His bones can be the needle, a single strand of hair from his head can be the thread. She'd just _love _that.

How long are heart attacks supposed to last? The Izanagi's about ready to tear off the layers of skin that cover her arm from the frustration. On the surface she looks no different than she normally does. Blank eyes, blank stare. She's the epitome of self-restraint. Someone should give her a long deserved award for it. A trophy, a god damn plaque. This is just pure, undeserved _torture_ for her.

L's heart stops, and it's the most beautifully tragic thing she's ever experienced.

Then his heart does another, bashful little stutter, and stutters turn into steady, rhythmic beats.

"Mizuki," L whispers, his heart rate gradually steadying. He opens his eyes halfway, and their bodies relax at almost the exact same time. Both of them had been so tense. He's still very vulnerable, and Mizuki realizes that she hates seeing him this way.

"I'm leaving," she murmurs, tightening her obi. L closes his eyes again, almost looking annoyed with her, but she pays no attention to it. She had bigger things to worry about than his petty feelings. A man like him doesn't need emotions to weigh him down. Anchors won't do you much good when you're sinking.

L doesn't respond. Mizuki walks over to the window, her pace steady, her posture much better than L's will ever be, and to him it makes her look like she has a stick up her ass.

"One last thing." The susurrus faintly reminds L of the woman's presence. "Things will be getting a bit _dicey _soon, so I was wondering what your opinion is on me informing Light-kun of your existence," Mizuki whispers, her voice more quiet than usual. She adjusts the sleeves of her yukata, inspecting the fabric in a futile search for imperfections.

This changes everything. Even a small stone thrown into the water causes a ripple effect. L has been anticipating this for the past several months now, but it doesn't necessarily mean he's ready "He'll be the death of you," L warns, still slight of breath, but not to protect Mizuki. He does it in a feeble attempt to convince her to abandon her goals, whatever they are, because nefelibatas, those who live in the clouds of their hopeless imaginations and dreams, bring those they're surrounded by down with them when they fall, and L has no desire to descend with her.

Mizuki ponders her response for a moment, debating whether or not to even say anything at all. After a few moments, she lifts her head up high, turning her head slightly to glance at him from the corner of her eye with condescension. "What gave you the assumption that I planned on getting out alive in the first place?"

"You strike me as someone whose first and foremost thought is self-preservation." Though speaking is proving difficult, he's slowly coming out of this convalescence, and each word is easier to say than the last.

This time it's Mizuki who wants to leave, and L who's holding her back. She doesn't have to tell the truth, could easily lie and he'd never know, but she wants someone to confide in, or at the very least confess her woes. She's never tried it before, so she decides to start now because she has nothing to lose that L could ever take. "I've lived long enough," she admits, and for once she's almost at a loss for words. "My life has no meaning anymore, so I'd much rather die for my cause than suffer an eternity of apathy."

L has always wanted to know the reason Mizuki saved the lives of him and Light, and he wants to know now more than ever. Things like these can't be forced though, so he settles for offering her pity, doubtful that she'd take it, but hopeful that it'd lower her defenses as he slowly pulls himself into a sitting position. "Eternity sounds lonely. Have you ever wanted to share it with someone?"

Rather than soften the god, it makes her heart of stone even more cold. "Fuck off," she hisses, eyes narrowed more than they usually are, scowling. The reaction surprises L because he's never heard her swear before. He's hardly ever even seen her show anger. Deciding that the best plan of action is to perform no action at all, he silently watches her as she slips out of the window and into the young night.

* * *

**Life Note  
How to Use**

**VI**

● The predetermined cause of death will appear over a human's head three days before they are destined to die, which is visible to any human in the possession of the Life Note. However, the cause of death "Has a heart attack from the Death Note" will not appear until their name is written down in the Death Note unless the human has the Izanagi's eyes.

● In order to counter a human's cause of death, you must give a reasonable explanation for them to survive or avoid it.

● If a human is saved from the effects of the Death Note by a Life Note, neither notes can affect them anymore. These humans are collectively called "carriers."

● If saved from the human's predetermined cause of death with the Life Note, both notes can still affect them.

● However, if a carrier's name is written into the Death Note, presuming there is no specified cause of death, they will go into cardiac arrest yet not die from it.


	3. Heaven, Voracious

**[AN] **so, you might not have guessed by now, but this story is going to be a giant cluster fuck of love triangles. I still haven't figured out who's going to end up with who, so I'd love some feedback about what your favorite pairing is. it doesn't have to be Light x L, or Light x Mizuki. I'll be reintroducing some characters that should have been killed off in the manga/anime for this purpose, and then I'll probably just kill them again. just remember that so far, there is no official pairing in this fic. c; anything can happen!

lastly, I'm sorry for another disappointing chapter. like I said on chapter two, I haven't yet been able to fit all the pieces together (insert gay Light/L pun) but I have everything sorted out. This is a puzzle, after all, so every thing should hopefully fall into place. I just pray that you bear with me...

* * *

**Life Note  
How to Use**

**VII**

● One page taken from the Life Note, or even a fragment of the page, contains the full effects of the note.

● The instrument to write with can be anything, ((e.g. cosmetics, blood, etc.)) as long as it can write directly onto the note and remains as legible letters.

● Even the original owners of Life Note do not know much about the note.

* * *

**Chapter 3: Heaven, Voracious**

_40... 39, 38, 37, 36, 35, 34, 33, 32, 31..._

Every second is agony. Every night is painful. Light's not sure whether this ritualistic habit lessens the affliction, or if it just makes things worse. He's been doing this for the past six months, never taking a single night off, so there is no data to compare against it.

_30... 29, 28, 27, 26, 25, 24, 23, 22, 21..._

Why? What's the point? Every time he does it, without fail, he inevitably regrets picking up the pen again just to write down that name. That letter. It's too late. Once a name is written down in the Death Note, there's no turning back.

_20... 19, 18, 17, 16, 15, 14, 13, 12, 11..._

Unless you use the Life Note, that is. Light's used that note in various experiments to test its power, has found it to be rather useful in certain situations, but he's never utilized it to counter _this. _That's because he's killing someone who's already deceased. He watched the light fade from this person's eyes, watched their pale lids close and tasted the last breath that left their half-parted lips. It was _marvelous._

_10... 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2..._

The final second is always the most difficult, but he doesn't have time to revel in its passing before his stomach is shot with sharp, biting pain. It's _cold._ This is physical, and its unlike anything he's felt in such a long time. Light can't even recall the last time he even stubbed his toe on the foot of a desk, or hit his elbow off a counter. He hasn't felt physical pain in so long, especially not like this.

"One."

Mizuki punched him. There's a slight chill left behind on the skin of his abdomen where her fist met. It had felt like he'd been hit by a block of ice, a glacier.

"What are you doing!?" Light coughs out, along with a thick mixture of blood and phlegm. It leaves small blotches on the hard wood flooring, stains his hand and trickles down his chin. He collapses onto his side, the couch that he was sitting on catching his fall, and instinctively curls his legs up as though trying to block out the pain. He's too preoccupied with confusion and agony to be angry right now. She wasn't here a second ago. It's like she materialized out of the air.

Mizuki's furious. It resonates from her like light from the sun.

"I just punched you," she remarked matter-of-fact, and her earlier narrow eyed, jaw clenched expression has already vanished. "Now I'm going to drink a little." And by a little, she means down at least one hundred ounces of liquor. Luckily, she always seems to have some on hand. She hovers over to the kitchen, floating a little bit higher so that she can reach the top cabinet to retrieve four twenty five ounce bottles of strawberry vodka, holding two in each hand, and places them on the counter for easy access. She easily pops one open with her teeth, watching Light as he struggles to sit up.

_'He's so pathetic...'_

"Stop with the games," Light wheezes, finally in a sitting position, though his forearms are on his legs, supporting him as he crouches forward. Refusing to look down, he stares at her in the eyes with fury and shock, and she stares back with nothing. "What did I do to piss you off?"

Mizuki takes a long swig of the liquor, savors every drop in her mouth. She drinks to feel human. She does a lot of things to feel human. "You exist."

There's a long, impenetrable moment of quiet until Mizuki takes another sip, loudly gulping it down, loving the way it makes her throat burn and her tongue tingle. A bit trickles down her chin, and she catches the bead of liquid with her tongue. Light's entranced. "Did I offend you? Are you upset because I'm wasting my time writing down the name of someone who's been long dead?"

Mizuki arches a brow, wondering where he's going with this. "Tell me what your theory is," she says.

After another few but long seconds of deliberation, Light answers. "You're angry because it's _his _name that I'm writing down." It's going to hurt to say it, will burn almost as much as the alcohol Mizuki's drinking, but he says it anyways. "L Lawliet." His name is a ghost that haunts them always, and no priest can exorcise it.

"I suppose you can put it that way," the female admits, staring down the glass and reading its labels. "What is your reasoning for why I feel like this?"

The reply is automatic. "You empathize with him," Light murmurs thoughtfully. "Though to be honest, I don't know why. L was evil. I knew him, you didn't."

"You're wrong."

"What do you mean?" Light asks as he wipes the blood from his mouth with a tissue from the coffee table.

"I know L Lawliet. I've known him longer than you had, and I know him better than you did." Mizuki polishes off the bottle pops open another, hoping to distract herself from Light with the sting of liquor.

She spoke in present tense. '_She has known him. She _knows _him.'_

Something's eating at Light's insides, something he swallowed down a long time ago, and it's trying to escape.

L is alive.

* * *

**Life Note  
****How to Use**

**VIII**

● You may also write the cause and/or details of survival prior to filling in the name of the individual. Be sure to insert the name in front of the written cause of survival. You have about 19 days (according to the human calendar) in order to fill in a name. Of course, this only works if you know how the individual is destined to die.

● Even if you do not actually possess the Life Note, the effect will be the same if you can recognize the person and his/her name to place in the blank.

* * *

As usual, Light rises with the sun. He keeps the curtains open for this reason, just in case, so that sunlight may pour into the room almost endlessly and rouse him, though most of the time he wakes up by himself. He doesn't sleep much, and the dark lines beneath his eyes seem to be permanent, just like L.

Just like L. Light can't possibly turn into that despicable creature. He won't allow it. The two are _nothing_ alike.

"Is there something on your mind, dear Light-kun?" the being to his far right asks, and Light vaguely wonders when she got back. Vaguely, of course, so his mind doesn't drift on the thought too long. Instead, it wanders towards his work, where it usually stays for the rest of the day.

"Just work," Light says, stretching his body before pushing off the thick, overbearing comforter and getting off the bed. Standing before the nightstand, he plucks a pen from the spiral binding of a regular notebook and unscrews it, taking out the cartridge. He opens the drawer then pushes the bottom end of it into a small, barely visible hole in the bottom of the drawer to open the hidden compartment. When he was in high school, he had used this very same tactic to insure that no one could find the Death Note. If the compartment is opened by force, it will catch on fire.

When the compartment is lifted, Light removes both the Death Note and Life Note from it, and lets the wood fall back into place, then closes the drawer. After this, he grabs his laptop from the night stand and gets to work. Or, in other words, judgement.

Mizuki floats in the air, hands behind her head like she's reclining on a couch. Curious, she rotates her body and hovers over to Light where he sits at the kitchen table, looking over his shoulder to find that he's already busy watching the news and writing names in the Death Note.

This seems to annoy him, and he glares at the Izanagi, unamused by her display of naivety. "Why don't you just go make some coffee?" he practically snaps at her, quickly looking back at the screen in case he missed anything. She gets under his skin so easily, and he wonders if she's even trying to.

Almost obediently, she hovers away to the coffee pot on the kitchen counter to do so, and Light turns on the volume of his laptop just enough to listen for any news about murder or other criminal activity so that he can use his eyes for another purpose; watching Mizuki. Within moments, the coffee's being made and Mizuki's back to hovering over Light like a pest. A new caster reports from a helicopter about a car chase on Route 58, and they give the public his name and picture just like Kira told them to do. Light automatically writes down the sinner's name with absolutely no remorse or empathy, doesn't flinch when the car loses control and collides into a tree after forty seconds have passed, doesn't even grimace when the body smashes through the windshield and skids across the highway, leaving a trail of blood and gore in its wake. That's all this insignificant sinner is to Light; just another stain on the pavement, another name in his notebook. Like homework, it's becoming tedious, but it will always be necessary. He wonders when he became so indifferent to death.

"You look bored," Mizuki notes, still waiting for the pot to ding, signaling its finish. She has a terrible habit of reading into Light's face to deduce what's on his mind. It's almost as bad as her "drinking habit," though both are equally annoying. "Is it because you haven't met any obstacles in the past few months?"

There's a distinctly audible 'ding' that permeates through the silence, and Light wants to wait for Mizuki to get the coffee before he answers her, but she's stubborn and just hovers there like a cloud, shapeless, cold, and he closes his eyes because he hates the sight. He just wants sunny days and peace, and he can't think about such ideals when she's in his view, blocking the sun. Maybe it'd be more appropriate to say that she eclipses it.

"There's no competition anymore," he admits, though Mizuki doesn't think he'd go as far as to say "I miss the challenge L gave me." He's still got that ego and clings to his hatred because to him, that's all he has left of L. It's almost time for her to make a move. _Almost._ "Even though it's better that way because nothing stands between me and my goal, I think I'm losing my edge." It feels like he's confiding in her.

"True," Mizuki muses, satisfied, then retreats to pour a cup for Light. She adds a bit of milk, just the way he likes it, and floats back over to him like a ghost, placing it on the table before him. He takes a sip as he waits for more criminals to write down. "If a weight lifter doesn't go to the gym for a while, he'll lose his strength." Mizuki opts for sitting on the table, crossing her legs, and the way the fabric of her yukata slides up her leg just slightly catches Light's eye. Initially, it entrances him. Then it disgusts him and he nearly spits his coffee back up.

"Is there something wrong, _dear Light-kun?" _she murmurs like an echo.

"Not enough milk," he says simply, and goes back to ignoring her. Predictably, she doesn't allow this, sliding from the table and into the air, body maneuvering until she's just a centimeter away from letting their skin touch, which would be catastrophic.

The breath that escapes her lips makes his neck cold, and she whispers serene words that would otherwise be fatal. "Do you want something to be wrong?"

This catches almost all of his attention, and he struggles to listen to the news while he also listens to the sound of her light breathing. Mizuki loves when he looks at her like that, even if it's animosity. "Is that a threat?" he asks, trying to guess what's in the labyrinth that is her mind.

The response makes Mizuki giggle a bit, though the smile that results doesn't reach her eyes. Light's never seen them light up with emotion. They may be endless like the sea, but they're far more empty. "Of course not. I'm just asking if you'd like it if something bad were about to happen, silly." She's talking down on him as usual. Implying things that she wants him to catch up on.

"Is something bad about to happen, Mizuki-san?" he asks because he feels compelled to, like it's necessary in order to placate her. He downs a large gulp of the coffee, and it burns his throat on its passage.

"Actually, yes," the woman says, much to his surprise. Suddenly, he's sidetracked by recent news of a child molester and returns to his work. When he writes down the name, he doesn't feel like a hero. Immediately after that report, he hears of a woman charged with setting her house aflame and leaving her two year old child inside, who subsequently died of carbon dioxide poisoning. When he writes down the name, there's no fire in his heart. Is Kira dying?

"What is it?" Light inquires, still cool as a cucumber, though inside he's decaying. Where's the hope?

When Mizuki puts her fingers beneath Light's chin to turn his head towards her, he nearly jumps from his chair from the sudden chill, but there's a toxin in her touch that numbs him and holds him still. Mizuki has a way of paralyzing Light. "Someone needs to die. I need you to kill him."

"And if I refuse?" he asks stubbornly through his teeth, but it's hard to think when those eyes of hers are swallowing him like the sea. It's so easy. He sinks like an anchor.

"Then he'll kill you," she whispers, and it strikes him with lightning, energizes him with its electricity. This is what he needed. A jolt back into reality. Reality is cruel, relentless, and there are those out there -bad people- who want nothing more than to ruin Light's noble goals. "And that wouldn't sit too well with me."

"Who is he?" Light asks, absent mindedly pushing her hand away with the back of his. She retreats.

"He is known as Beyond Birthday."

The name rings a rusty, neglected bell.

Skeptical, the young man glares at her and leans back in his chair. "Oh, really? And how does he even know I'm alive? What's his motive? How do you know he wants me dead?"

Mizuki easily answers those questions, unabashed. "He knows you're alive because his Shinigami told him. His motive is his desire to protect the one he loves." She pauses for a moment, giving Light time to guess who the object of Beyond Birthday's attraction is. "L." Recognition becomes the most prominent expression on Light's face, recognition and a hint of pain, like he'd gotten a minor yet troublesome paper cut. In reality, the name itself cuts even deeper than that, but Light hides his distress. His attention is on her now, and she's aware that he'll eagerly drink up every word that spills from her lips. He's been dehydrated for so long, drained of nearly all of his initiative, leaving only enough for him to cater to his base desires; killing criminals with nothing but pen and paper.

L is alive. Light's been aware of it all this time. He felt it in his bones, in his blood, every time he wrote down L's name. Mizuki brought him back like how she brought Light back. Should he be ecstatic or weary?

L is the beacon that gives him hope after being lost at sea for so long.

Finally. He's finally looking at her with the anticipation and need that she's been craving for quite some time. Eager to please, Mizuki continues without hesitation. "They have history, back when the two of them were in the Wammy House, though I'm not entirely certain of what the complexities of this relationship are, nor do I know the man's true name." Hoping to avoid Light's last question in order to save that particular revelation for another day, she remains quiet, praying to the Izanagi King that Light will be so overwhelmed by the information given to him that he'll forget it. However, this _is _Light, and he may very well be one of the most intelligent people in the world. As such, it's exceedingly difficult to get things past him.

His tactic; ask first, analyze later.

"I'm getting the feeling that you're hiding something vital, Mizuki-san." She's dreaded this. She hates talking about L because she hates to see the flicker in Light's eyes when he's mentioned, but it's unavoidable.

"I was told this by L himself several days ago."

So, this threat has been looming over his head for a few days already, and he's only suddenly being made aware of it? It's inexcusable. "And you're only telling me this now?" Light asks, obviously annoyed. Mizuki nods, prompting him to sigh and mutter, "Well, it can't be helped, I suppose."

"Light, he poses a serious problem," Mizuki warns. "He must be dealt with immediately."

"He can't kill me with the Death Note. I didn't even know there was another one in the human realm, but that's besides the point." Light runs his finger along his jaw, tracing a single line over and over again as he thinks. "However, if he poses an 'immediate problem' as you say, then I don't have much time to figure out his name." Exhaling from the frustration, he bows his head until it's in his hands. "What a pain." And because of this pain, adrenaline courses through his veins. Things are picking up at a pace that he can barely keep up with. It's exhilarating.

Mizuki continues offering information. "His intention is not to use the Death Note on you. I believe this will be a more direct confrontation."

"Then what other option do I have?" Light has no desire whatsoever to kill someone without a Death Note. However, it might end up that way if he doesn't figure out BB's name. "If I kill him, I might risk leaving physical evidence. I've never killed anyone with my hands, and although I can find a way to dispose of the body and make sure I leave nothing behind, I might slip up from inexperience."

Once again, Mizuki has the answer. "Beyond Birthday looks exactly like L. He acts exactly like L. Except he's insane. And there's a way to find out his name that you more than anyone else should know of." Light looks up at her.

"Don't even-"

"Make the eye deal with me, Light."

"-suggest I make the deal with you."

The right corner of Mizuki's mouth twitches, which Light catches. Those quick, half smiles hurt him and he doesn't know why. Everything hurts, especially the spot where she punched him yesterday.

"There's something you don't know, Light. Use reasoning to figure it out."

The eye deal. A human can also make it with an Izanagi if they have a Life Note, though the price remains the same. However, there are a few bonuses if you trade for the Izanagi Eyes. The human will not only be able to see a person's name just by looking at them, and their lifespan, but also how they are destined to die. Without letting Light guess anything, she says, "The gods of life in the Izanagi realm are assigned tasks. The system there is much different than in the Shinigami realm. Gods of Life make many changes in the human realm. A Shinigami's only purpose is to write down names in their notebooks in order to continue living. However, in addition to writing down names to insure their own survival, Izanagi also manipulate the fates of the humans below."

"So, free will is an illusion," Light says, still wondering where Mizuki is getting at.

"Yes, for the most part. They usually tamper with the fates of those who are important to society and expansion. But that doesn't mean you were chosen to change the world, Light. Don't think so pompously."

"Of course not," Light laughs bitterly. He'd already been told this by Ryuk. "Humans resurrected by the Life Note have undetermined lifespans," Light murmurs in thought. "Though someone with the Eyes can't see an owner of a Death Note's lifespan, it doesn't mean that their lifespans are undetermined. It just means that the owner has gained the ability to kill."

"Which means...?" Mizuki presses, already knowing the answer though wanting to hear Light say it.

"Which means since those who have been revived with the Life Note, those called carriers, can make the Eye Deal without cutting their life in hald because they don't have a lifespan at all. Because it's undetermined, so therefore nothing can be halved."

Light smiles, and it mirrors the same smile he wore when Higuchi was killed. When L was killed. He hasn't smiled like this in so long. Those sadistic, cruel smiles hurt her, and she doesn't know why, either.

Smiles hurt so very much.

"I want to make the Eye Deal," Light orders.

Mizuki closes her eyes. "There's one more thing you need to know, Light-kun."

"Alright," Light says, furrowing his eyebrows, confused, and the way he tilts his head a little like that would make any girl swoon. "Tell me what it is and I'll deal with it." It's a shame. Light's so beautiful, but he's destined to spend eternity alone. He could easily make a girl fall in love with him, he's done it plenty of times before, but a relationship is a two way street, and Mizuki doesn't think Light could ever reciprocate any girl's feelings for him.

He loves himself and no on else. She hates herself, and she's starting to hate everything else.

"Humans in possession of a Life Note and Izanagi cannot see the name or lifespan of those who own a Death Note. Because you own a Life Note yourself, you will be unable to see Beyond Birthday's name." Mizuki's plan is unfolding. Things are going into motion.

Light doesn't seem too concerned about this fact. He taps his fingers on the table, starting at his little finger, in quick succession. "Then I'll just have to give up ownership of the Life Note."

Mizuki nods. "Yes. But as long as you own a Death Note, your memories will remain. And when I am gone, Ryuk will return. A human cannot be possessed by a Shinigami and an Izanagi at the same time."

"I learn something new everyday," Light chuckles, and he glances up at her. "I know you'll return. I'm vital to you. I'm necessary."

The woman says nothing, growing uncomfortable. Light shuts the laptop, pushes his chair back, and stands up. "I need you around for a while longer, so that I can test the Life Note a bit." Mizuki notices how he says he needs _her _around, not the Life Note, and recognizes it to be some kind of ploy.

Again, she says nothing. Once so cruel, Light suddenly becomes warm and gentle. Mizuki stops breathing.

_'It's a trick, it's a trick, it's a trick,' _she thinks over and over again, trying not to forget that fact, but her thoughts fade into the blackness of her mind as Light closes in on her. The closer he gets, the closer her feet come to the floor, and by the time the cold, bare skin of her soles meet the wood for the first time in a long time, Light's towering over her, looking down at her with liquid gold eyes and long lashes and parted lips. There's a distinct difference between their heights now that she's on solid ground, and both of them are very aware of it.

Her skin is smothering her.

"I appreciate the information," Light murmurs while he places a few fingers under her chin to tilt her head up similar to how she did before. It's the forbidden touch. He feels the ice. She feels the flames. But neither can pull away. "I'll have to find some way to thank you."

If it weren't for Mizuki's earlier advances, Light wouldn't have considered doing this. _'Just take it one step at a time or else she'll retreat.' _

Addiction starts slowly. If he gives her too much all at once, she'll break. The strange thing is he might like that to happen. Light wants to break her. Then again, Mizuki isn't stupid. If he takes things too slow, she'll think he's building up to something, or that he's just trying to woo her in a believable way to make her drop her guard. He has to do this just right, give her the drug every so often but without giving it time to leave her system.

_'I wonder what it's like to kiss an Izanagi.' _When Light thinks about it, Mizuki really is attractive. She is a god, after all. Smiling to himself, he decides that this is what he deserves. Light's a god, so he deserves to be _with_ a god, even if it's a cold and lifeless one.

His fingers are numb after being exposed to her skin so long. They're so close that he can see himself reflected in her eyes. She stands completely still, arms hanging by her sides, and Light uses his other hand to grab his, making her hook his arm around him, drawing her even closer until their abdomens touch. He's still bruised from when Mizuki struck him. He tilts his head just right, and her lips pull his in like the moon does the sea. There's hesitation from both sides, hesitation from Mizuki because she's never kissed anyone before, because in her heart she knows this is fake, hesitation from Light because right now, in this moment, he doesn't hate her so much, and because he doesn't want to drive her away. She's the moon, and if she goes out of orbit, it'll disrupt the balance of things.

Their lips meet. Sparks don't fly. Fireworks don't go off. But it evokes a change within them, one that may prove to be their downfall.

It doesn't hurt like either of them thought it would. Mizuki feels warmth for the first time without being set aflame. For Light, Mizuki's ice becomes light snow.

Before she realizes it, her hand clings desperately to his shirt, curiously brushing against his sharp hip, and he has his fingers in her hair, and this becomes at least ten percent real, a major improvement from the one hundred percent manipulation it had been just moments before.

It isn't the beginning of love, but it's the end of hatred and indifference, and for them that's a start.

* * *

**Life Note  
****How to Use**

**IX**

● The Life Note will not affect those over 27,000 days old.

● Carriers, or those who have been resurrected by a Life Note, do not have lifespans. Because of this, if a carrier makes an Eye Deal with a Shinigami or Izanagi, their lives will not be halved.

● Izanagi and humans in possession of the Life Note cannot see the name or lifespan of humans who own a Death Note, just as Shinigami and humans owning a Death Note cannot see the name or lifespan of humans in possession of a Life Note.

● If a human who owns both a Death Note and a Life Note relinquishes ownership of one of the notes, as long as the still possess at least a Death Note or a Life Note, they will keep their memories of the note they gave up.

● A human cannot be possessed by a Shinigami and an Izanagi at the same time.


End file.
